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Poetry

In The Interim

In the interim, I will be less.

I will be quieter, complacent, and empty.

I will take long baths locked behind a door

in silence.

In the interim, I will be smaller.

I will fit myself inside of a chair.

I will gather myself on a couch

wrapped in a quilt

in a ball

smaller and smaller.

I will wander through hallways unseen.

I will sleep in dark corners.

It isn’t enough to be something,

to fill up days with form and presence.

It isn’t enough to be a ghost.

I will be less than a ghost,

less than a shadow.

I will be a quiet, unseen, forgotten poltergeist

taking baths behind locked doors in darkness

and candlelight.

Not a sound.

I will fill up no space,

take up no time,

speak no words.

I will be nothing,

a no one,

a not somebody.

In the interim, I will disappear

and never be accounted for.

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by Tracy Barbour

I am a writer, poet, mother, veteran, POC, and a bisexual woman living in New York City. I am also a trauma-informed, mental health certified change and transformation coach helping people move through transitions in life in work who are facing grief, loss, trauma, and toxicity. I use holistic practices and practical strategies to help people achieve clarity, harness their strengths, cultivate joy, and develop purpose.


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